


Complicated Doesn't Mean Impossible

by platoapproved



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Misunderstandings, Other, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26577934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platoapproved/pseuds/platoapproved
Summary: Hamid falls for Skraak and enlists Azu's help.  It breaks all the rules he's always had about who he was supposed to be, and who he was supposed to be with.  He's certain it could never possibly work between them.  Azu is much less certain; Aphrodite tends to find a way.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Azu, Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Skraak
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30





	1. assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azu makes an assumption about Hamid's recent behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do my best to see this through to the end even though I'm very out of practice and haven't written fic in about 5 years? Thanks go to Dwyn for beta-reading this first chapter!

In the weeks after they were restored to their proper bodies, Azu came to the uneasy conclusion that Hamid had almost certainly fallen in love with her. Every one of the warning signs was tiny, but added together, they painted an unavoidable picture in her mind.

The mood among the rest of the crew had been jubilant, and when he was around other people, Hamid had reflected that. But twice Azu had caught him at the railing of the ship, chin propped on his hand, sighing and staring into the distance. When she’d asked what was troubling him, instead of opening up to her the way he’d always done – even when they’d only just met and everything in his life was falling apart – he’d jumped like a startled cat, blushed, mumbled nonsense excuses, and ran away. The first time it happened, it had been puzzling. The second time was when she began to worry.

He had also been spending an even greater deal of time than usual around her. Any time he wasn’t on duty, it seemed like he wanted to be near her, even if all he was doing was sitting silently working on alterations to the kobolds’ clothes. Azu liked having Hamid around, of course. But she had been glued to his side when he was in her body, and now she wouldn’t mind a _little_ room to breathe. Particularly because she didn’t know how much longer she would have with Kiko, and she wanted to make the most of it. More than once Hamid had shown up with his arms full of cloth and a few pins already perched between his lips, only to find Kiko and Azu together. Azu always half-heartedly asked him to sit with them, and he always refused, and secretly she was glad. But there was no mistaking the dejection in his slumped shoulders whenever he turned to go.

Hamid had also became obsessed with his appearance again. Since Rome—since they’d lost Sasha and Grizzop—Azu had noticed Hamid’s priorities shifting. He didn’t seem to mind, anymore, if someone saw him covered in dirt, if his hair got a bit mussed as he was fighting for his life. Hard to worry about that sort of thing when the world is ending around you. She didn’t make much of it when he fussed over himself again upon being restored to his own body; they were all coping in the best ways they knew how, and it made sense to her, that this was his way. But even as everyone else began to settle back into normalcy, his focus on his looks only seemed to increase. Azu saw him early one morning bent close to a mirror, his nose only an inch away from the surface, as he cast prestidigitation over and over on himself, making the tiniest alterations to his eyeliner, the part in his hair, or some other detail too tiny to notice. He hadn’t seen her looking. His expression had been tight and frustrated, like he was close to tears. After that, Azu couldn’t help but notice him constantly tugging at his sleeves, and brushing off invisible specks of dirt, glancing into any reflective surface just to check that nothing was out of place.

Then there was the fact that he had started to ask her things. It wasn’t that Hamid had never asked questions about Azu’s past before. They had always been the standard stuff; wanting to know more about her family, what kind of food they ate in her village, and what sorts of jobs she’d had growing up. In recent days those questions had shifted. He’d started asking what sorts of people she had dated before they met. Had it been just orcs that she had dated? When had she realized she wasn’t only attracted to men? How did the cult of Aphrodite feel about its paladins’ love lives–were there restrictions, expectations, pressures? Had she ever gone after someone she knew she _ought_ not to…?

••••

At first she ignored the hints, told herself she was imagining things. It was probably thanks to Siggif and Kiko—now she just _assumed_ anyone acting a bit strange was interested in her. But gradually the dread in her heart grew. She started to consider what she would say if he came to her with some kind of confession. He was, after all, her best friend; she didn’t want to hurt him any more than she had to.

Would it be easier on him to use Kiko as an excuse? But then what would she do when their journey was over, and she and Kiko parted ways? He might think he stood any chance, and Azu had no illusions about her feelings for him changing in that time. And so, would it be gentler to assert the undeniable difficulties posed by any kind of long-term romantic relationship between a halfling and an orc? Would it be wise to bring up the difference in their backgrounds? Should she just tell him the truth in the plainest way possible? That even though she loved him with all her heart it was the same sort of love she felt for Emeka, and she would never see him as anything but another brother?

Her anxiety over the whole matter increased exponentially when she noticed that Hamid obviously had something he wanted to say to her in private. The airship—large as it was—did not offer many opportunities for real privacy. There was almost always someone else within earshot and even if they all did their best to ignore one another and offer the illusion of privacy, it was only that: an illusion. Azu noticed that Hamid had started coming on deck or into a cabin looking around until he saw her, and then looking to check if anyone else was nearby. There was always a kind of nervous hope in his expression and posture when he spotted her, and a deflating annoyance when he saw one of the other crew members not far off. Sooner or later, though, he was going to get his opportunity. She tried to make herself ready for when that day came.

Sure enough one day when she was up in the crow’s nest keeping watch, Hamid fidgeted his way up and sat beside her, and Azu just _knew_ what was coming. She stayed quiet as Hamid looked down at his hands. All that poise and polish was gone, and to Azu he just looked very small, very fragile, and very young.

“Azu, I’ve—b-been wanting to talk to you about something… quite personal.” Hamid’s voice was quiet, no brightness or flash in it. Azu’s heart sank. Would it be too obvious if she jumped to her feet and said she’d just remembered she’d forgotten something very important and possibly on fire that she had to rush off and see to right away? Probably. But Azu was a little tempted to run regardless.

“I noticed,” she said simply.

Hamid looked up quickly, his eyes wide. Apparently, he hadn’t realized how unsubtle he’d been. She saw him chew the inside of his lip before nodding, accepting this before pressing on.

“It’s… I know you… you always told Grizzop that Aphrodite wasn’t j-just about – romance and all that, but I thought—”

She couldn’t take it anymore. The waiting was killing her—more than that—it felt _cruel_ when he was stumbling over his words, so nervous and earnest. Better to get it over with quickly, rather than allow him to linger, in pain, uncertain.

Azu asked, briskly: “Hamid, are you about to say you’re in love with me?”

“What?”

For a moment there was perfect silence between the two of them, poised high above the airship, nothing but the blue of the sky all around them. Then, Hamid shook his head.

“No! I mean—I… I’m sorry, Azu, I _do_ … love you, as a friend. You’re _wonderful_ , and anyone would be lucky to be with you. You’re—you’re the kindest person I’ve ever known, and beautiful, and incredibly brave, and gentle even though you’re so _strong_ , I never realized how much until we… anyway! And I… Well, to be honest, there… was a little while, back when we were in Damascus, that I did—I may have wondered if… but, no! No, I’m not in love with you, Azu.”

Azu’s smile grew slowly as Hamid stuttered his way through the words, his voice rising in pitch in that way it always did when he was worked up. Relief washed over her, pure and potent, and she offered a silent prayer of thanks to Aphrodite. She was moments from sweeping Hamid up into a hug when he opened his mouth to speak again, his eyes downcast.

“Not. Um. With _you_.”

In a flash, everything from the last few weeks that had worried her reoriented itself in Azu’s mind. She hadn’t been wrong, after all—at least not wholly. Hamid had been moping around like a lovesick puppy, just not over her. He’d been worrying about his looks for someone else’s sake. He had asked all those questions because he wanted advice. He’d been sad seeing her and Kiko together because he wasn’t with… whoever it was he wanted to be with!

Azu beamed at him. All of a sudden it had become simply the best day ever. She couldn’t contain the delight in her voice as she asked:

“ _Who?!_ ”

Hamid lifted his eyes from his own fingernails long enough to peer over the edge of the crow’s nest down to the deck of the airship. Azu followed his gaze to a spot near the helm where Cel was having an animated conversation with Skraak, their hands gesturing emphatically—doubtless about something explosive.

“Cel?!” Azu gasped, epiphanically, “Of _course_ , I should’ve realized! Hamid you should say something to th—”

“No!” Hamid cut her off, burying his face in his hands, “Not Cel, Skraak, Skraak, it’s Skraak, okay?! I’m in love with Skraak, and it’s a disaster, and I don’t know what to do!”

Azu let out a slow whistle, looking down to the deck of the ship, to the kobold who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding solemnly to whatever Cel was saying. She looked back to her friend—still squirming with embarrassment—and nodded. Aphrodite be praised, she really had her work cut out for her!


	2. something new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamid and Azu have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started writing this in a pre-episode 174 world and I shall continue on as I planned. Canon? Never heard of her.
> 
> Thanks once again to Dwyn for the beta and for everybody who gave encouragement on this! You are all the best and helped me be brave enough to continue this. 💖

Before Azu could ask any questions, she wanted to know when this had all started, why he was so convinced it was a bad thing, whether he had mentioned anything to Skraak yet—Hamid spoke up.

“I was—was wondering if you could… are there any spells you know that might, uh—make it go away?”

Azu’s broad smile faltered, a small crease forming between her brows. Hamid’s words were clear enough, but she still asked, “What do you mean?”

“Could you—c-call on Aphrodite to make me… _not_ in love with Skraak?”

The silence stretched between them as Azu just looked at Hamid, grave and alarmed. When she spoke, it was carefully and gently, but her deliberate tone made it obvious just how offensive his request had been.

“No, Hamid. There aren’t any spells to stop someone from being in love. And even if there were, _I_ certainly wouldn’t know them or agree to cast one on you. Hamid… it goes against everything Aphrodite stands for. Being in love—even when it is complicated, or unrequited, or messy—is a blessing. Interfering with that isn’t—” she trailed off, shaking her head.

Hamid filled the gap quickly, his hands up and waving in the air as he stuttered his way through an apology, “Of course, I—I’m sorry, Azu, I didn’t think of it like that! You’re right, I—sh-shouldn’t have asked.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” she forgave immediately. Her smile was back, but it was smaller than before, concern tempering her delight. She had been friends with Hamid a while now. She was not going to let him off that easily.

“Why is being in love with Skraak so awful that you would ask me to do a spell to mess with your mind? Forgive me, Hamid, but that doesn’t seem like you at all, and it worries me. A lot.”

Hamid’s gaze dropped at once and he fidgeted. Azu did not save him from the awkward silence, waiting him out. She saw him look over the side of the crow’s nest, down to the deck of the ship. Cel and Skraak had left, and Azu thought he might be contemplating retreat. This, she realized, was what he’d been wanting to talk to her about, all those times he wanted a private conversation. His request wasn’t a whim, but was something he’d been dwelling on.

Eventually, Hamid couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“I—I mean, there’s—so many reasons, Azu, it’s—I don’t even know where to start. Everything that happened, back in Japan… I haven’t got the _right_ to. And what if—what if I’m confused and I’m not in love at all and it’s just—just guilt?” 

“Guilt?”

“Because of—of how I—at the Shoin Institute, all those other kobolds. The ones that I—killed.”

Azu kept her face calm and steady, even as her insides twisted in sudden, awful realization. With everything that had happened since—their quarantine, forming their plan to come to Svalbard, the journey to Hiroshima, helping Earhart, learning to crew the ship, meeting Kiko, the ordeal with the aurora, losing her body and getting it back again—she had forgotten, just for a moment. 

Hamid had not forgotten. It was all too clear, from the hunch of his shoulders and the haunted look on his face, that the knowledge of that carnage was with him every waking moment. Azu could not soften it, could not make what had happened in the past any different. Better to focus on something within her reach: taking Hamid’s feeble excuses apart so she could to the heart of the matter. Because once her initial shock and guilt over forgetting faded, she saw the flaw in his argument.

Setting a hand on Hamid’s shoulder, she asked, “Hamid—we are friends, aren’t we?”

Hamid looked up at her and blinked a few times in confusion.

“Of _course_. You’re—you’re my best friend in the world, Azu.”

Azu smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. The question had been rhetorical, but it still felt good to hear him say it.

“Then, as your best friend, I’m going to ask you something very personal, and I’d like you to be honest with me.”

She could see the trepidation creeping into his expression, but he nodded solemn and ready.

“You said before you’re in love with Skraak. Have you had sexual thoughts about them?”

Hamid had been readying himself for something, but this clearly wasn’t it; his eyes went round and he looked away, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears..

“ _Azu!_ I—I don’t really—that’s—why would you—?!”

Azu interrupted, gentle but firm, “Be _honest_ , Hamid.”

Hamid went quiet, and Azu could see he was chewing at the inside of his cheek. It seemed a simple enough question to her, but she wasn’t all that surprised by his silence. She’d noticed this inconsistency in him quite a while ago—how he was so open about some things, and utterly incapable of talking about others. Eventually, not looking at her, he nodded. She decided that was probably the best she was going to get for the time being.

“I know… there have been things in your past you have felt guilty over, Hamid. Other people you’ve wanted to atone to. Did your guilt ever cause you to have those kinds of thoughts about them?”

“What?! _No!_ ” His response was sharp and immediate, voice going so high it cracked. Azu gave a solemn nod and spread her hands.

“Then it’s clearly not just guilt making you think you’re in love with Skraak, is it? And to be honest, Hamid, I think you already knew that deep down. So, yes, what happened at Shoin’s…complicates matters, but it isn’t the only thing going on. Are there any other supposed reasons?”

Hamid hunched into himself, defensive and annoyed. At the moment, Azu didn’t care. Sometimes, being a friend meant pushing someone out of their comfort zone. Hamid, she knew, had not had enough people in his life willing to love him and to push back when he tried to avoid conflict and discomfort.

“They’d probably never—I mean, the ch-chances Skraak would ever feel the same way back are just—” Hamid trailed off midway through, seeming to hear the weakness of his own excuse before he’d even finished making it. With a long sigh, he pushed his hair back and covered his face with his hands, staying that way so that his next words were muffled. He spoke quietly enough that Azu only just heard him, over the wind and the sounds of movement and work on the ship below.

“I’ve never—I’ve always—the only people I’ve dated before—or even thought about dating—h-have been other halflings, and—they’ve all been women and I just don’t—I don’t know how to—”

He let out a very unsteady breath. At some point, he had started to shake. Azu drew him into a hug. Not interrupting, merely grounding him until he found the words.

“I know that—it shouldn’t bother me. I’ve never—thought less of anybody else for who they were interested in, truly. Wh-whatever gender or you know, heritage or anything. Not for a second. So why’s it— _feel_ like this, when it’s me? Why’s it—why am I so _scared_?”

Hamid wasn’t exaggerating, either; Azu could feel his heart racing, even as he stood still. She could feel heat coming off him, too—too much heat, and she recognized it from the various dangers they’d been through together as a sign of panic. He still hadn’t taken his face from his hands. 

She chose her words with care. For her, it had always been easy. Not love itself, of course—that was always difficult in one way or another—but understanding her own way of loving and the sorts of people she could imagine herself loving. There had been no great revelations, no conflict (internal or external), no cause for distress. 

But, of course, Azu and Hamid are very different people, with very different backgrounds.

“I think…it can often be scary, learning something new about yourself. Especially when it goes against something you were certain of before.”

Hamid burst out laughing at that, the kind of laughter that’s only a hair’s breadth away from tears. But he tooks his hands from his face, finally, and she took that as a sign, gently releasing him from the hug.

“It s-seems like that’s all I do, these days! I thought—of course, I’m a wizard, but then I wasn’t. So then I thought, well of course I’m j-just a regular halfling, my whole family are halflings, and then I wasn’t. And now, _this_ , and I—I’m not—I don’t even _recognize_ myself anymore, Azu.”

“I recognize you.”

Azu took his hands between hers, covering them completely. She was glad that her hands were her hands again—big enough to envelop his and hold them steady. She waited for him to meet her eyes, then spoke, voice low and full of love.

“You’re the same person you always were, even if that person is different than you’d thought when you were younger. And there’s nothing wrong with being that person, Hamid. There is _nothing wrong_ with being Hamid, who is in love with Skraak.”

His eyes were filling with tears, face crumpling. He always looked so much younger, when he cried. Azu let herself forget too often, how young he was, for a halfling. She made a promise to herself to forget less often.

“So please… don’t ask me to do anything like that ever again. You are not a broken thing in need of fixing. You’re in love, and that’s something to celebrate, alright?”

He was crying too hard to speak, now—awful wracking sobs that shook his whole frame. But he managed to nod, as she pulled him into her arms again.

“Good.”


End file.
